I knew the ferry was doomed. For ages, I’d been hanging around the port. How many departures had I seen? Thousands – but I knew this one would not return. Since my accident, I hadn’t worked at sea again. However, I couldn’t keep away from the harbour that I’d sailed often, having spent half my life in ships. I’d boarded the night ferry unnoticed, before the passengers were allowed to embark. The freshly painted hull, recently refitted, was idle, though my mind was not. I thought, “Quiet as a waiting grave.” On shore, columns of silent motor cars awaited the signal to drive up the ramp. Some drivers and passengers dozed as they whiled away the time. Had they known what I did, sleep would have been impossible. I began my inspection, patrolling every deck, every compartment. There was simply nothing to excite alarm. The bow doors had received particular attention in recent weeks – after that other disaster. I stood by while the First Officer and Chief Engineer reported to the Captain – everything shipshape. The Captain nodded his assent to the First Officer’s request – passengers and vehicles to embark. Now, at breakfast, the restaurant buzzed with excited voyagers. Stewards looked dispassionately on chattering breakfasters. They’d seen it hundreds of times. This would be another, uneventful crossing. I looked about anxiously. Whether young or old, most passengers glowed with anticipation. Yet my foreboding strove undiminished within me. Then I saw her, dark, olive-skinned, like my wife. How long ago was that? I had lost count of the years. My heart missed a beat. So like Bess! I could not keep my eyes off her. Was she aware of my scrutiny? She shivered and looked right through ne. What did I expect, after that accident? I had lost everything that distinguished a man. What woman could look at me now? I wanted so much to talk to her but didn’t want to frighten. Anyway, it wasn’t she. A likeness, maybe, but not my Bess. I couldn’t have forgotten, could I, after such a space of time? Bess would have aged, considerably. Nevertheless, my longing remained, and this comely woman had struck a chord. Bess and I had fallen in love at first sight. Sometimes, her father worked for mine, but they liked and respected each other. That was why Father agreed that I should bring Bess home, as my bride. Mother, too, loved Bess. For some reason I recalled the two of them, forearms dusted with flour, chatting happily as they cut and rolled the pastry. Then they sliced plump apples, in the stone-flagged kitchen. Bess’s and Mother’s apple pies; how well I recall them. Snapping from my reverie, I knew she too was doomed, unless I could do something. But how? Thinking my presence had embarrassed her, I leaned over to touch her arm. She rose quickly and walked away; I must have harassed her. Why should anybody credit that I knew the ferry would not reach Cherbourg? But I had to try to do something about it. Desperately, I surveyed the happy faces, caught snatches of holiday talk. One couple looked forward to consummating their love in a French gite. Another glowed with thoughts of returning to their Spanish villa. I could only imagine these destinations, but there was no mistaking my temporary shipmates’ savouring of their supposed imminent future. Who but I would have dreamed of impending disaster? Through the window, a flat, purple-black sea glistened from every ripple. Night was surrendering to the day, though the last few stars had not given up their silent vigil.